The Light That Began

Zion ascended, lifted by a tide of shimmering light.

The Core of the Divine Realm was not a place, but a sacred memory—a luminous heart beating with the first sparks of hope, faith, and reverence.

Here, the light revealed the birth of the first god.

Not from thunder or war, but from the spark of a single answered prayer—a cry in darkness met with a spark of mercy.

He saw the origins of every god.

Their divine nature blossomed from acts of compassion, courage, and sacrifice.

Each god was a mirror of light, reflecting the souls they lifted.

The first god gave solace to a lost child, weaving hope into the fabric of despair.

Another healed a shattered land, turning ruin into renewal.

One god's laughter stirred joy in the hearts of the weary.

Another bore the weight of justice, balancing mercy and law.

Every answered prayer—whether whispered in fear or shouted in jubilation—was a step in their becoming.

Every soul that ascended was a thread of light woven into the tapestry of paradise.

Zion watched the divine chorus.

He saw how gods grew, not by command, but by service—each moment tethered to mortal need.

Yet even light had its shadow.

For with every blessing, some prayers twisted into demands.

Some gods bore the burden of pain as much as joy.

Some prayers answered well… birthed unintended consequences.

And then, as the divine birth's glow reached its peak,

Zion was pulled back.

The Crossroad reformed beneath his feet, vast and silent.

Before him stood the twin doors:

One to embrace the demonic—to cast down all gods and claim their ruins.

One to embrace the divine—to root out every demon and crown the gods anew.

But Zion was changed.

He whispered:

"The gods were born in light and shadow alike.

Neither side holds the whole truth."

The Crossroad waited for his choice.

But Zion hesitated.

Because he had seen the origins of all things divine—and knew the fate of his world depended on more than simple destruction or devotion.